Pain of Times Past
by Girlfromsnowyriver
Summary: Nightwing never revealed his past to anyone. It was a pain better left buried. But as trapezes swing into action, so do memories.


**Hi all! Thank you so much for reading! This is, by far, not the first fanfic I have ever written, however it IS the first I have ever posted - very exciting! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE! - This fanfic is set after Invasion, however, I am instigating my creative licence and making a few changes:**

 **1\. WALLY IS NOT DEAD! He and Artemis both semi-retired once again, but still keep in close contact with the team**

 **2\. Episode 'Performance' from Season 1, DID NOT HAPPEN. The team do not know that Dick has any affiliation with Haly's circus or any other circuses. They are not aware of his back story.**

 **3\. Wally knows Dick's secret ID, but not his history with the circus. (i.e. knows his parents were murdered, was taken in by Batman, but not anything about Haly's circus or The Flying Grayson's)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Young Justice or its characters.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _You can do this._

 _You CAN do this._

 _It's been 11 years, you can do this._

 _You are Nightwing now!_

 _You are Nightwing. Protégé of the Batman. You can sit through a circus performance._

. . . The female trapeze artist released her swing and leapt across to her waiting partner . . . 

Dick sucked in a breath, eyes wide. 

_You can, and you WILL do this._

. . . To clasp hands with the awaiting pair and swing elegantly onto the platform. 

Dick shakily released the inhaled air, while Wally joined in the crowd next to him erupting in cheers.

 _You're fine. Don't make a scene. Everyone else wants to see this. It's about them, not you. Don't make a scene. You can do this Nightwing._

The acrobats bowed, absorbing the applause. They took a few steps back, readying themselves once again for another leap. It was the big one. The grand finale. The move that would bring the house down.

Dick tried not to bring to memory the last grand finale he had attended. 

_Think of something else Dick. You can do this. It's almost over. Then this will be all over and forgotten._

The trapeze lines stood faithfully ready as the acrobats' run-up begun. . . 

_You are Nightwing! You can handle this!_

. . . The acrobats simultaneously leapt into the air, performing a somersault before reaching out for the bar . . . 

_You are 19 years old Dick Grayson. You can do this!_

. . . Reaching out for the motionless bar . . . 

_You are NIGHTWING! Leader of the team! You CAN do this!_

. . . The bar which their lives depended on . . . 

_You can do this Dick._

 _You are Nightwing. Son of Batman._

. . . Only for the female to fall short, missing the bar . . . 

And all of a sudden, Dick was thrust back in time.

While the audience inhaled a sharp intake of breath, Dick had the wind knocked out of him. His eyes wide, all the blood draining from his body, falling - like the acrobat. 

And all of a sudden he was not 19r old Dick Grayson in the circus audience with his best friends; 

_He was 8 yrs old and watching his parents fall to their deaths._

 _8 yrs old and standing on the trapeze platform watching all that was known in his life fall with his parents, to land unceremoniously with the distant cries of the audiences, in the circus ring._

 _Falling to his knees as his parents' broken, lifeless bodies presented themselves beneath him. The snapped wire mockingly swaying parallel to him._

He didn't process his dramatic rise from his seat.

Didn't notice Wally's concerned tone and gaze.

Didn't acknowledge the audience's cries of relief as the performer landed safely in the net only a few metres below her.

Didn't realise he was in the present until he his feet had stopped moving by themselves, and found himself locked in the outside bathrooms panting and facing his reflection in the mirror. 

_It wasn't them. You're fine. You're fine._

But his parents continued to flash before him as he internally crumbled and his knees gave out; furiously trembling hands slipping from the showground's cold porcelain. 

He thought he'd be able to cope when the team had suggested visiting the circus together. It was just the original members, Kaldur, Connor and M'gann, Wally and Artemis. They had planned a weekend off, a break from running a team, planning missions, and worrying about potential jeopardy. Ever since the excitement put forth when the big top had been erected at the Happy Harbour showground, the team had wanted to attend, particularly since many had never experienced the thrill of the circus. From what Dick had gathered from the whispers of planning between the younger members of the squad, - and from what Dick overheard Tim explaining to Alfred at Sunday lunch - the younger teens were planning a group visit the following week.

Not to be outdone, and due to the equivalent excitement of M'gann, the older members had hastily structured in the event into the weekend itinerary. Dick had not being aware of the addition to the team's plans until the morning of their visit, and not having sufficient time to come up with an excuse, had been dragged along by Wally.

Dick knew that if anyone had known about his past the notion would never had been suggested, and Dick, for obvious reasons, had never felt any inclination to bring it up. 

It was a painful memory much better buried with the past. 

But as soon as they had come within a miles of the showground, Dick had already begun to seize up as the nostalgic scents of carriages, animals, stale popcorn, fairy floss, and kerosene, hit his senses. Combined with the dazzling lights, ever present glitter and smoke, cheers and animal calls, Dick had been fully occupied with keeping his sanity at the forefront of his mind.

The familiar sights of trailers and sequined leotards had impacted as physical blows to the gut. 

It only became worse as they had taken their seats; Dick had positioned himself at the end of the row between Wally and the stairs, in case it was necessary to make a quick getaway. 

Dick had never felt so distraught to be right. 

He barely registered as the familiar voice of Wally floated underneath the door.

"Dick? Dick are you in there!? Are you alright buddy? C'mon talk to me! Are you sick? You looked like you were having a panic attack. C'mon, let me in mate". 

The words were spoken with an air of nonchalance, however the concern laced through them was unmistakable. Dick recoiled, as though kicked, further against the wall. The anxious voice of his best friend only presented a new layer of guilt to course through him.

 _You are supposed to be the leader of the team. Show strength when everyone else can't. Not break down at a circus performance. C'mon Nightwing, you need to be the strong one! Not the child breaking down!_

His body recoiled from another painful psychological impact as the sound of Connor breaking down the door resonated through the small tiled space. Dick hadn't realised it was possible to curl himself any smaller as his friend's concerned gazes found him hidden behind the vanity, but apparently he could. 

He cowardly brought his forearm up to his face to hide his eyes; not being able to bear the humiliation of his closest companions gazing upon him in pity. 

_What would Bruce think? Running from adversity? Hiding from pain? Abandoning his friends?_

 _You're a coward Richard Grayson._

 _A Coward._

* * *

Thankfully, Wally had rapidly understood that the team's presence was only distressing Dick more, and hurriedly sent them away, closing the door - with its now broken lock - behind him. 

Wally once took in the scene, assessing. But all thought of trained responses to shock or injury went out the window at the sight of Dick's wide, bloodshot eyes, tears making unauthorised headway down his cheeks, and arms trembling uncontrollably. 

He reacted on instinct, feet moving of their own accord, crouching down and putting an arm around his best friend. Dick's conscious still seemed in a different place than the present, however, his body shifted ever so slightly to rest against the support. 

He would never had thought he would be in this position. He, Wally West, Kid flash, to be comforting the fearless Nightwing. 

It had occurred a few times before in reverse, with the Boy Wonder always knowing what to say when Wally's times got tough. But never, had he thought there would be something in the entire world that could bring Richard Grayson to his knees. 

Not even when Artemis died, and Dick spent the proceeding days in mourning, had he fallen apart like he had now (of course, Wally knew this wasn't a prime example, Dick captaining the plan the entire time, but still). Dick had always been the strong one. The one that could stand strong and so everyone else could grieve. 

_But then, maybe that was because he had had to._

It had never previously occurred to Wally that Dick may have seen this as his responsibility. Dick knew he was the most experienced, even though not the eldest, and particularly when he became leader, if Dick had broken down, the faith and resolve of the team would crumble. And it was a necessary responsibility, one that the entire team relied on without ever having realised it. Each team member would sub-consciously draw strength from Nightwing when their own dwindled.

Wally realised, he had never seen Dick Grayson breakdown, because he had never allowed himself to. And if he had, he had never allowed the team to be aware of it. 

The realisation impacted as a physical blow, as memories came flooding back with a vengeance. 

When Jason died, no one had seen the Batfamily for weeks. And once they returned, they ensured no emotion was shown - hiding their grief under their cowl and masks - because if they were strong, others would and could be to. Dick had lost his brother - and never let anyone see it. 

No matter what the trauma, what the pain, Dick was the strongest one who would keep on fighting and smiling, - sacrificing himself - for the rest of the team. 

Which also meant, that whatever had finally brought the mighty Nightwing to his knees . . . 

. . . was more painful than could be quantified. 

* * *

**Thank you for reading! May be a two or three part, but will depend on reception to the story.**


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